"It's like this," said his lordship, returning to his lecture.
"Yes, I see now," said the neophyte.
They began playing. Lord Dreever, as was only to be expected in a contest between teacher and student, won the first two hands. Hargate won the next.
"I've got the hang of it all right now," he said, complacently. "It's a simple sort of game. Make it more exciting, don't you think, if we played for something?"
"All right," said Lord Dreever slowly, "if you like."
He would not have suggested it himself, but, after all, dash it, if the man really asked for it— It was not his fault if the winning of a hand should have given the fellow the impression that he knew all there was to be known about picquet. Of course, picquet was a game where skill was practically bound to win. But—after all, Hargate probably had plenty of money. He could afford it.
"All right," said his lordship again. "How much?"
"Something fairly moderate? Ten bob a hundred?"
There is no doubt that his lordship ought at this suggestion to have corrected the novice's notion that ten shillings a hundred was fairly moderate. He knew that it was possible for a poor player to lose
